Everything The Light Touches
by ange69n
Summary: I always wanted something more. I'm going to find out who's watching me. I'm going to realize my destiny. I'm going to...fall in love? No. No way...
1. PRELUDE

**Hi! I really hope you guys like this, its my first attempt at a WoW fic. And yes, I actually play Wil. My realm is Dentarg if any of you play, come find me! Well, anyways, read and review please! **

**Love,**

**ange69**

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**PRELUDE**

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It rained heavily this night, of the Telling. It was a yearly thing amongst the soldiers; they all pitched in a few gold to have their fortunes told by the old troll Shaman that came their way every winter. The Shaman liked the barracks of Stormwind; they fed her heartily and truly they were her greatest bounty of the year. Their expensive gold bought her children and grandchildren bread and meat for the summers. It seemed every month there were more mouths to feed, and some days she cursed herself for producing so many offspring.

This night, as Galor'Uhl wobbled steadily up the stone paths, her walking stick clunking heavily against the ground. Her bare feet were cold but accustomed to the weather; winter truly was her favorite time of year, if only because the stormy skies reflected well with her dark, bluish skin. As she neared the stone gates of Stormwind, a man in silver armor broke away from his fellows, abandoning the card game they were halfheartedly playing. "Galor'Uhl!" The man called, waving his gloved hands above his head. Galor'Uhl recognized him then, his crinkly blue eyes and dark, black hair. He had shaved his beard since the last time she had seen him, his young face showing a few signs of wear. Truly the battles of the Horde and Alliance had taken a toll both on her people and other races. Galor'Uhl proudly thought herself nuetral.

"Danail, my boy! Though, you are no longer a boy, it seems," the old troll female said, spreading one of her arms wide. Danail leaned into her, resting his head against her flamboyant, red hair. She and the young human had always shared a special bond, ever since Danail's father brough him to see her in her homeland, once, when he was there on business.

"No, all grown up, Gal," Danail said, the new roughness in his voice surprising Galor'Uhl, "General to the Stormwind Army, now!" He flashed proudly the golden star sewn onto his blue tabard. The troll smiled gently, showing a mouth full of sparse, blunt teeth. "I couldn't be prouder if you were my own kin, Danny," she said, and meant it.

"How are the children, Gal? Malik'Uhl and Sertia have any more young ones while you were away?" Danail always remembered her children's names, along with most of her grandchildren. Having several offspring was common for trolls, in case the first few didn't survive. In Galor'Uhl's case, all six of them had.

"Yes, Malik'Uhl and Sertia welcomed a son and daughter while I was home. Saroom and Z'tinae," Galor'Uhl admitted proudly, smiling wistfully as she remembered her newest grandbabies.  
"That's great, Gal," Danail said, squeezing her lightly. He lead her into the warmer tower, just out front of Stormwind City. As many times as she had seen the outskirts, Galor'Uhl had never been inside the great city. She was already pushing the boundaries with Varian Wrynn with visiting his soldiers. Though she was no threat, Galor'Uhl would rather keep her head on her shoulders, not on the ground.

Danail sat her on a small stool on the lower floor of the tower, shoving a bowl of thick, brown stew at her when she refused it. "I cannot accept your food," Galor'Uhl said vehemently, even as she reached out to take it from him, "times are hard and meat is scarce." Her argument was lost when Danail waved a hand dismissivly. "We've had a rush of odd creatures," he said, now looking slightly worried, "but their meat suffices well enough for us to survive."

His fellows watched Galor'Uhl warily as she took a sip of the stew. It was thick and warm, and she felt her cold bones warming already. As she ate, she watched. Most of the boys she had seen last winter were still there, slightly bulkier and scruffier than before. Their eyes passed over her warily, as if she would recite an ancient spell to freeze them all like ice for eternity. Though she could, Galor'Uhl would not. She liked her humans.

Polishing off the stew, Galor'Uhl set the crude, wooden bowl on the stone floor. Shen then reached into her pack at her waist, producing a fine, red powder. She stood and gently spread it around her in a wide circle, humming quietly. The men watched from afar, holding a collective breath, afraid to move.

When she finished, a quivering, bright light flew around the red dust. The soldiers around her gasped, and only Danail remained calm. He was, by now, used to the female's antics.

"Who would like to be first?" Galor'Uhl called out to the congregated men, her emeralde eyes searching. Her connection with the spirits now intensified her very being. She searched their faces and their minds, calling out the ones who truly wanted their fortune told but were afraid to ask.

"You," she said, pointing to a young, wafish looking boy with white-blond hair. The boy's blue eyes glazed over with fear. "Come forward, young one," she searched his mind, "Teronis, you are called." It was not a question, Galor'Uhl knew all.

The boy stepped forward cautiously, his mail armor clanking and tinkling. Teronis stepped inside Galor'Uhl's sacred circle, but stared at the female's extended hand warily. Rolling her eyes, Galor'Uhl took his appendage and tore the glove from it, tossing the armor aside.

As she touched the pale skin of the boy's hand, Galor'Uhl could taste his fear. It was hot and metallic on her tongue, and it flared up inside his mind, attempting to ward her out. The troll Shaman had faced far worse than this, though, and pushed it right aside.

She saw the boy's life from birth to here, and it was extraordinarily plain. His father trained him to be a soldier. His mother was a kind woman with cornflower hair such as his, and his eyes. He loved her greatly. She was ill, though, with a strange disease. Galor'Uhl had seen this in a few of her children when they were young. She took some herbs from her packs and mixed them in her abandoned bowl. She mashed them together with her fingers and handed them to Teronis, who looked at her in confusion. Neither of them had said a word.

"Take these to your mother, immediately," she ordered, her voice a low rasp, "they will heal her of her illness." Teronis' eyes widened and he gasped, a smile flitting across his face. "Thank you!" he cried, and couldn't help but throw his arms around the troll woman's shoulders in a rough embrace that was over before Galor'Uhl could return it, "thank you so much! I am forever in your debt!"

The boy raced from the tower toward the lights of the town. Galor'Uhl watched him through the trees, smiling, before turning to the next soldier.

The process of reading each soldier was a long, arduous one. By the time she had finished it was a very early hour of the morning, and Galor'Uhl's bones ached as she moved. A yawn escaped her mouth as she stood, stretching her sinewy arms in the air. Her eyes, clouded with weariness, traveled over the sleeping men. To show their gratitude for her readings, they had made a bed for her with the softest furs and mats, so she may rest before continuing her journey. As she looked, her eyes fell on one dark haired man, lounging near the entrance to the tower.

"Danail," Galor'Uhl said quietly, as not to wake the others, "I have no read your fortune this night. Come here." The man looked up, almost startled. "You're tired, Gal," he said placatingly, "get some rest. You don't need to read my fortune this time. There's nothing really to tell."

Galor'Uhl shook her head, her spiky, red hair falling in her eyes. "Come over, Danail. I always have time for your readings."

Danail smiled and came to her, taking off his glove and reaching for Galor'Uhl's hand. As her smoky blue skin touched Danail's, a shock went through the troll. Her eyes snapped shut and visions swished through her head, too fleeting to be seen. A blue aura tinged a picture, slowly coming into focus.

Danail stood at the bedside of a red-haired woman, his blue eyes boring into her green ones. In the woman's arms was a tiny, squirming bundle. As Galor'Uhl watched, it let out a tiny cry and the blanket fell aside.

The child swathed in the blanket was beautiful, with milky white skin and perfect, pink lips. The ice blue orbs seemed to gaze right into Galor'Uhl, and the crying stopped. Galor'Uhl suddenly got the feeling that the beautiful, future-child knew she was watching.

The vision switched, then, to a young girl playing in the open yard. A large wolf pup bounced around after her, sometimes stopping to nurse a charred patch of skin on its flank. Danail and the red-haired woman laughed from the doorway of a wooden cottage, their hands clasped around another squirming bundle.

The happy visions had Galor'Uhl smiling as she watched, and Danail, blind to what she was seeing, could only imagine. Suddenly, the troll's mouth twisted from a grin to a grimace, and she gasped.

Galor'Uhl shut her eyes tighter, as if trying to force away what she was seeing now. Danail's blue eyes stared up at her, his face older, and unseeing. His sword hung limply from his hand, and an enormous armored foot clomped down into her line of vision. It was an orc, his green skin tinged with stained blood. By the look of him, he was young, with an unlined face and clear, defiant eyes. The creature let out a terrifying roar, leading his band away on their snarling, drooling wolves.

The vision was quiet then, panning to an open, barren feild. Fires raged all around, creatures screamed with agony and hate. One lone figure was what Galor'Uhl focused on, slim and small yet muscular, weilding an axe. Black hair pulled messily out of the face, with the blue eyes and snowy white skin. A blue tabard, torn and bloodied, with a golden star. The woman turned and Galor'Uhl gasped. The beautiful future-child, grown now, but still stunning. Her face was contorted with hate, focused on an unseen enemy. As she raised her axe for the final blow, her attention shifted momentarily, staring into space. Her expression cleared in recognition, before the long-handled dagger slipped through a break in her armor and she fell, contorting in agony, to the ground...

Galor'Uhl pulled herself from Danail's future, tears streaming, unbidden, from her eyes.

"Danail," she sobbed, "oh, my dear boy. My poor, dear boy."

The man caught her, pulling her to her stool. "What, Gal? What did you see?" He asked frantically, smoothing the troll's hair from her face so she could speak. "No, no, I cannot tell you," Galor'Uhl sobbed, feeling as if her heart was being torn from her chest. The beautiful child, the poor, future-child, and her sweet, sweet friend Danail...

"Tell me what you have seen!" Danail commanded, his voice raising slightly, "it is _my_ future!" He had his hands placed on Galor'Uhl's shoulders, shaking her slightly. Panic flitted across his face. The old troll seemed to rattle inside of her body, before coming to again.

"You...are in a patrol, with your infantry," she started, her voice barely a whisper, "you go because you must protect your family. You die." Galor'Uhl began to cry again, silently this time. "You would not have went, if you did not have the children. Two, a girl and a boy. You go because you must keep them safe. Must keep _her_ safe." Galor'Uhl's mouth contorted into a grimace, as she invisioned the future-child. "She is like you. Very much so. You have the same eyes," she smiled, reaching her hand up to touch Danail's cheek, "and face. You gladly die for her so she may survive. But do not think that you do not have a choice, Danail," Galor'Uhl warned, her tears drying on her face and her voice taking in a new fervor,"do not think that you cannot save your own life. The paths of fate can always be changed."

Danail watched her, and his eyes that were once glowing with pride now showed signs of wariness. "What are you saying, Shaman?" Danail snapped, almost rudely, "Forfeit my child for my life? Never. The very thought disgusts me to my core."

Danail threw himself away from Galor'Uhl, beginning to pace. Both were utterly silent, Galor'Uhl watching him and Danail staring at the floor. When the man looked up, his eyes were filled with tears. "I accept my fate. I will bear this child with pride and love, and raise her as best I can until...until I no longer wa;k in this world," Danail stopped pacing and turned to face Galor'Uhl. The troll gave him a wan smile. "As I knew you would, Danail Wolfslayer," the Shaman said, though she admitted to herself that she was hoping for the latter, "and if I ever see this daughter of yours, I will give her all the blessings my people can give." They reached their arms out at the same time, embracing heartily. "Get some rest, my dear boy," Galor'Uhl advised, smoothing his tabard, "it is a late hour and the life of a soldier is never dull." _However short that life may be_, she thought, but bit her tongue. Danail nodded, distracted, and wandered up the creaky, wooden stairs of the tower. Galor'Uhl watched him lay beneath his furs. Though she knew he would not sleep tonight, she commended him for putting up the charade, for her sake.

Galor'Uhl sat on the edge of the wall near the tower for the remaning hours of night, just staring into the forest. She watched the creatures interact; two prowlers padding almost silently through the woods, a fox leading her two young cubs home from a night of foraging. As the morning rays began to seep over the mountains, Galor'Uhl stood silently and gathered her things. The men were beginning to stir awake as well, so it was best that she be off now, without troubling them with goodbyes. As the troll Shaman set out, her walking stick smacking against the ground with her unusually fast pace, she felt eyes boring into the back of her head. She turned then, still walking, to stare up into the window of the tower.

A flash of black hair and a glint of armor sent her heart into a whirl. No, it couldn't be, that child was years into the future...

Danail Wolfslayer watched his old friend go, his mouth set in a tight, worried line. As he watched, Galor'Uhl raised her hand in farewell. This was much unlike their happy, sloppy goodbyes of old. The air was thick with the tension between the two. Danail raised his hand in a single flick, either a wave of farewell or a disgusted dismiss, Galor'Uhl would never know.

Galor'Uhl started off on her journey home again, more eager than usual to see her children again, to feel her grandchildren's warm hugs. As hard as she tried, she could not forget the face of the future-child, contorted in agony, dying...

Danail Wolfslayer saw the receding figure of his old friend vanish into the early morning mist. Though he could no longer see her, he knew she was there, watching him through the mist. Wondering when she would see him again, if she ever would. Danail couldn't help but let his mind wander back to what Galor'Uhl had said. _"Do not think that you do not have a choice, Danail,"_ she had said. But did he really? Could he sacrifice the life of this child, his daughter, someone he felt he already knew? Someone that Galor'Uhl had said was so like him?

No, Danail Wolfslayer decided, pulling on his gloves. The morning mist gave way to the first rays of sunlight; they felt warm and healthy on his face. No, he thought again, he did not.


	2. Who Needs Limbs, Anyway?

**ONE**

It was dark in the abbey, though the light had begun to shine over the mountains. Another sleepless night watching the vineyards burn, wondering who would come home injured, and who wouldn't come home at all.

Danail Wolfslayer's various suits of armour, the metal contraptions of Stormwind and the leather makings of the local vendors, lay on the table in my room, high in the towers. As I looked at them, the sun shone through the tiny stone window and glinted off of the Stormwind crest. With a sigh, I stood.

"Wil!" A small bundle tackled me from my right, wrapping two arms around my waiste like vices. "Mama told me to deliver you a message, just like a Stormwind Sentinel! Breakfast is ready," the boy's blue eyes, much like my own, shone with excitement. How he got to be such a morning person, I would never know.

"Alright, Danny," I, Willowpania Wolfslayer said, a chuckle in my voice, "lets get downstairs before the soliders steal all the strawberry jam." Danny scowled at this, looking quite fearsome. As fearesome as an eleven year old boy could be, that is.

"I'll race you!" He shouted, before bolting down the stairs that were only wide enough to fit one person. "You win!" I shouted, following at a more leisurely pace. All these sleepless nights were getting to me, I couldn't even imagine what my dark circles looked like under my bright, blue eyes. As I rounded the corner into the tiny kitchen, I ran a hand over my black hair and down my short, simple tunic. The scent of boar bacon and eggs wafted through my nostrils and my mouth watered.

"Good morning, dear," a tall woman said from the window, poking her head through from the outside into the kitchen, "I thought I'd feed Flue for you this morning. He was whining at the door all night, I felt bad for leaving him in the garden. This is my way of making it up to him."

As if on cue, my mother gasped as the huge Prowler head poked itself through the window next to her. His canines jutted out slightly over his top lip, and the sight of me his jaw dropped in a silly, wolfy grin. Flue let out a puppyish bark and hoisted his huge frame farther into the window, flicking out his tongue as I reached forward to pat him. "But you still left him out there, I heard him howling," I said, slightly begrudgingly. Mother always let Flue sleep in my room with me when I was younger, but perhaps that was because Flue was the size of only a large dog when he was a pup. Now, a full grown Prowler Wolf, his head came to the middle of my abdomen. A huge, hulking, terrifying beast that was afraid of the dark. Flue's mottled gray head pushed itself further into the window, followed by two hulking, calwed paws. He rasped his huge tongue over my cheek once, before ducking back out the window to eat.

I sat down next to Danny at the tiny wooden table. I ran my hands over the surface, feeling the soft pricks of the splinters as they brushed lightly against my skin. The bells were ringing.

Living in they abbey had its perks. The bells, being one. They were beautiful, and the sound was my favorite music. I looked forward to them every morning. When I was younger, my father and I would sit in the huge, busted out stained glass window and watch the sun rising, listening to the bells. I never sat in the window anymore. It wasn't the same without him.

Danail Wolfslayer had been the very top of King Varian Wrynn's Royal Army. And then, when the King had disappeared, Danail was in talks to take his place. Varian, however, returned before the decision was finally made, bringing along his counterpart, the fearsom Lo'gosh. Danail had been one of the few to get into the King's better side, and stop him from allowing the creature inside of him to take over. What the Orcs did to him, we will never know.

Life was happy, for a while. When the woman Jaina Proudmoore had managed a tense truce between us and the Orcs, the whole of Azeroth shook with shock. Since there were no raids, no skirmishes, my father never had to leave home. He stayed with us at our home in the eastern part of Northshire Abbey, playing games with Danny and I, taking us riding. It was he who saved Flue from the raging forest fire in the mountains and brought the pup home to me as a gift. Things got even better when my mother announced that she was carrying another child. Then, everything fell apart.

fell apart. The Cataclysm hit and our roads split, the earth crying out in pain and torture. It struck everywhere; Elwynn, Northrend, even the cities across the Great Sea such as the Dwarves and Night Elves. The tremors were terrifying, and Mother pulled Danny and I into the stone basement. My father followed soon after, finding that there was nothing they could do but wait.

When the beam fell it happened suddenly, and Mother only had time to push us out of the way before it it her, square in the chest, shattering her ribs and breaking her leg. Still, after a year, she walks with a limp. My little sibling was lost.

Mere weeks before this, my father had been contemplating ending his time with the Royal Army, for he quite enjoyed his time here at home with us. But the loss of the baby and the near death of his family pushed him into leaving with the fist Guard that went out. Traitorous Orcs had moved into our homesteads, silently, killing at random and burning towns. The small Guard never had a chance.

The bodies were found abandoned, the horses scattered or stolen for meat by the Orcs. The only horse that remained was my father's, Samson the Great, nosing the lifeless bodies and whickering sadly.

We were at a loss, then, when the bodies were brought back to the town. No, I was not the only one to lose a father. My mother was not the only one to lose a husband. Although Varian had allowed us to keep our house, tax free, we chose to live in the abbey, in the small rooms in the additions that the preists gave to us. We could not stand to live in the house, it held too much of my father. The streets were filled with greif for weeks. But life did not allow much time for greiving, anymore, and something had to be done. Now, skirmishes ravaged our countrysides, wars dominating our outlands. People died each day. And yet I sat here, eating breakfast, wishing I was fighting the very creatures who took my father from me.

"Willowpania? Hello? I've been speaking to you!" My mother's voice broke through my reverie, and I shook myself, forcing my ears to listen. "I'm sorry, mother," I said,doing my best to sound sheepish when, really, I wasn't ."What is it you were saying?"

She glared at me, her brown eyes sparking angrily. "I said to feed the horses this morning before you wash," she sniffed, turning her gaze back to Danny, "and that's enough jam, Danail! Save some for the soldiers." She shoo'd his hands away with her wooden spoon, turning back to the fire to stir the stew that would be served for lunch and dinner. When she wasn't looking, I scooped Danny an extra spoonful of the jam, sliding it to him under the table. The twinkle in his eyes showed his appreciation.

I finished off the last of my toast and bacon, not feeling very hungry. Sighing, I got up from the table. "I'm going to feed the horses," I called over my shoulder, pulling a cloak from the nail by the door and starting outside.

The wind blew the scent of charred wood and blood. I shivered, though I was now accustomed to it. It felt as if the city would never be the same again. Flue spotted me from across the garden and let out a joyful bark, bounding over to me and covering my hands and face in wet, sloppy licks. "Ugh! Stop it, boy," I cried in glee, doing my best to push the two-hundred pound creature off of me. He obeyed and contented himself with chasing the chickens back into their coop and torturing them as they cowered inside.

I stepped over the rows of dying pumpkins and squash, making my way toward the simple, open stables. The two bay horses pricked their ears as I came forth, nickering greetings. The stallion, Ore, pressed his nose to my hand while the mare, Elendil, contented herself with nibbling the grasses that grew behind the bar holding them in. I picked up a few armfuls of hay from the corner of the garden, pushing it under the bar. Immediately, the two docile horses began to feed, whickering their thanks.

Satisfied, I turned to the larger stall. The magnificent creature inside stared at me, ears forward, eyes like glowing pits of black fire. Samson whinnied at me, demanding my attention. I stepped toward him, running my hands under his chin. He nuzzled my ears appreciatively, lipping my hair. I picked up as much hay as I could carry and brought it to him, and he ducked his head immediately and began to eat. Samson's black coat shone in the sun. his white socks and feathered feet impeccably clean. His mane had grown out of his signature war horse cut, and now hung to his shoulders in a wild tangle. What a joy it would be to ride him, I thought, but Samson never let anyone on his back anymore. He'd put up such a fight for anyone that wasn't my father. I knew Samson missed him too. But not as much as I.

Suddenly, Samson lifted his head and let out a terrifying whinny.

I turned immediately to see a hulking black creature slinking out of the trees beyond the fence, eyes glaring hungrily at me. It raised its sharp nose and sniffed the air, licking its lips over pointed, slavering canines. Panicking, I picked up a pitchfork laying by the entrance to the stables, pointing it in front of me, waiting. _Attack, _I thought_, come get me, cretin. _As if it read my mind, the black worgen crept toward me, his body low to the ground, ready to leap.

As it did, Flue burst out from behind the stables, catching the worgen in midair and taking it heavily down to earth. Gasping in terror, I watched as Flue sank his teeth into the fur behind the worgen's ear, yanking roughly. It whined and then snarled, raking its claws over Flue's shoulders. I leaped into the battle then, striking and spinning, stabbing at every inch of the creature I could reach, making sure to avoid the flashes of gray fur. The fight was leaving the worgen and, suddenly, it fell, the growls drowning in its throat with a horrible gurgle. Flue spat out the remains of the dog's throat and nudged me, as if making sure I was okay. "I'm fine," I assured him, "just a few scratches. You look okay,too." Samson was letting out loud, angry screams, rearing against the bar, eager to join the fight. He pranced back and forth, his head held high and proud. Once a warhorse, always a warhorse.

"Wil!"

I turned just as my mother came bounding from the house, a knife in hand. She had left her cane behind in her haste to help. Now, she limped heavily and as fast as she could. "Are you alright?" She shouted in fear, her eyes wild, "I heard the snarls and thought the worst! Damn those Orcs from Hell!" Her hands roamed over my body, checking for dire injuries. "I'm fine," I assured her as Danny rushed out to calm Samson, who was probably waking up the entire town. Even now I heard the shouts of concerned neighbors and Guards.

"What happened?"

"A rogue worgen! And so close!"

"Is she alright! Who killed it!"

"_Wil_ killed the worgen?"

I shook off my mother's hands and headed for the house, dropping the bloodied pitchfork in the garden. Flue followed somberly after me, shaking his head to rid his mouth of the taste of the worgen's blood. I entered my room and pulled out the first leggings and vest I saw, heading straight for the bath.

I walked to the small pool in the bathhouse. Flue tried to follow me inside, but I swatted him away, preferring to be alone. He whined softly but took up his post outside the crude wooden door, snarling at anyone who walked by.

My shoulders sagging, I pulled the rough leather tie out of my hair, letting it fall down my back. It was mostly straight, with some strange waves appearing at the ends, and it was kinked where the tie had held it together for so long. I scratched my skull, pulling my fingers through the tangles. The rock pool in the ground was bubbling hot, steam rising into the air and curling into strange shapes. I fantasized seeing a wolf with snapping jaws, and a soldier, storming into battle. I lay my clothes on one of the rocks near the pool, making sure not to splash as I lowered myself into the mist. Almost immediately I could feel the steamy water loosening my muscles, which were tense and sore from sitting still so long. I sat on one of the jutted rocks inside the pool (I wasn't worried for hygeine, as this was our own personal perk of living in the abbey) and leaned my head back, wetting my hair. It stuck uncomfortably to my neck and shoulders and I reached hastily for the crudely made soaps Mother had bought from the local vendors, to brighten up the place.

I picked one that was stained purple and smelled of lilacs and crushed grapes. Green flecks shone out from the mottled purple; peices of the flower's stems still intact. I rubbed my hands over the soap, forcing it into a thick lather, and rubbed it through my hair and body, washing away the stained dirt and blood from my battle with the worgen.

I finished my wash, taking longer than necessary. After my morning, I deserved a little extra relaxation time. I stood and climbed from the pool, my body uncovered. I never worried about dressing in the bath house, with Flue watching the door, no one would enter.

Just as I thought this, though, the old wooden door banged open. I screamed, covering myself with my tunic and leggings. A sheepish face greeted me, big, calloused hands flying up to cover his eyes.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know you were in here, Wil, honest!"

"Rhidian!" I shouted, adjusting my tunic to cover me more fully. Rhidian Rowenbreeze clasped his hands harder against his eyes, sheilding all vision. The Rowenbreeze family lived just off the road to the east of us, and shared half a farmstead with us. Mother sometimes let them use one of the smaller pools in the bath house for their wash, when the cold stream near their cottage ran dry.

Rhidian's father, Teronis, had been one of Danail's best friends. Though considerably younger than my father, Teronis and Danail had bonded one night that they spent in the Stormwind tower together, watching over the city. It was a coincidence that my mother and Teronis' significant had conceived at the same time. The scandal following Marian Reese's pregnancy shook the whole town. Teronis and Marian were not yet married when Rhidian, their only son, was conceived, though they were promised to eachother. Immediately, they were forced to wed. The preists and Shaman's even suggested to have the baby killed upon birth, so that the "bastard son" would not smear the good children's reputations with his spiritual muck. They both refused.

I agreed, though, that Rhidian's life had never been easy. The Elders scorned him and refused to let him into the public school with the other children. Marian had homeschooled him all his life, and because of that, Rhidian had grown up with little to no friends. I had saved him from a group of older boys in the woods, who were bullying and hitting him. Ever since then, Rhidian seemed to have formed an attachment to me, and ever since that day I regretted helping him.

"Well, get out!" I finally screamed, leaping forward and trying to shove him out the door. At my touch, removed his hands. His chocolate eyes raked over me, taking in my tangled, drying hair and angry expression. His body, large and muscular due to his training as a soldier, barely moved an inch. He swept a strand of white-blond hair from his eyes before relenting, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright!" He cried, allowing me to shove him out the door, "I'll see you later, Wil."

I slammed the door, muttering, "Not a chance."

"Are you sure you're alright to go to the Gathering, Wil?"

It was the third time Mother had asked this within the last fifteen minutes. Needless to say, she was starting to grind on my last nerve.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said, my teeth clenched slightly. It was all I could do not to shake her. Since the worgen had attacked, she'd fawned over me the entire day. Now, it was duskfall. Her voice was grating on my ears.

Finally, Mother sighed and turned away. "I don't know what I would have done if I...if I had lost you, too," she whispered, her voice weak, like a breeze in summer. I pressed my hand to her shoulder, but said nothing. I was never good with feelings.

"Danny!" I called, louder than I needed, to break the tension. "I'm getting ready to go, if you want to ride with me!" There were a few loud pounds and a little shaking of the walls and Danny flew into the kitchen, his clothes askew. "Is this okay to wear?" He asked, fingering the hem of his simple, black shirt and leather leggings. I reached out and mussed his black hair fondly. "You look like a strapping young man, " I said, and meant it. It seemed like yesterday Danny had been following me around the small courtyard of the school on his first day, scared out of his wits of the bigger children. "I won't let them hurt you, Danny," I had said, and I meant it, to this day.

We kissed Mother goodbye and strode out the door. Tonight was the night of the Gathering, the congregation of the younger people in Elwynn to show off their various talents. Recruiters from the Stormwind Army would be there, selecting their next prophets. I didn't know how I felt about this.

When I was young, it had been my dream to fight alongside my father, ending the tyrrany of the Horde once and for all. Often, I rolled around the yard, swinging my wooden toy sword at invisible enemies. Ore was my warhorse, though now he was much too old to break anything but a quick trot. I had dreamed of riding into battle, my armor silver and glinting in the sun, the lion of Stormwind golden on my tabard. In my mind, I saw blood spraying in the air, hitting my face, and I relished in it...

Now, though, I was cautious. Was I ready? This year, I contemplated not showing up at all to the Gathering. The recruiters most-likely knew who I was; more like who my father was. Varian Wrynn wanted me, and he wanted me badly. In one year, I was eligible to sign for the army. Is this truly, really what I wanted? To end up like my father, slain silently in the night and left, cold, on the road?

I shuddered, shaking my head. _You're acting stupid_, I told myself, gripping Ore's mane and pulling myself into the saddle. He turned his big, bay head an whickered kindly, nosing my hand. Of course this is what I wanted.

Danny trotted up next to me on Elendil. He gripped his reins tightly, his knuckles white. This was the first year he was allowed to compete at the Gathering. The recruiters would choose a boy and a girl from each class as champion. The ages spanned from eleven to seventeen; at eighteen, considered legally an adult, you either signed up for the platoon or moved on with your life. It was simple. Or, maybe it was, before the cataclysm hit. Now a days, soldiers that would once return home from Stormwind as they pleased, were confined there until set dates that allowed them time to come back and see their families. The battlefields were constantly filled with dying men, and the skirmishes were relentless. What used to be a calm, safe life had turned into an all around bloodbath.

"Wil?" Danny said, waving a hand in front of my face. I jerked back to life, turning to face him. His eyes were wide, blue pools of fear. "What is it, Danny?" I asked, my brow creasing in concern. "What if...what if they all make fun of me? I'm not as good as you are, or Rhidian." Danny had formed an odd camraderie with the bane of my existence as of late, which irked me to no end. That gave Rhidian an excuse to see me every day, but it also gave me an excuse to tease him relentlessy that his only friend was an eleven year old. It was a lose-lose situation.

I tugged lightly on Ore's reins, turning him toward the break in the fence. "You'll be fine, honey," I said, and his faced wrinkled; he hated when I got all sweet on him, "now lets get going or we'll be late!"

This seemed to renew his spirit, and I kicked Ore into the fastest trot he could manage without wheezing. Elendil, though considerably younger than the graying stallion, happily kept the slow pace with us. As we left the stone arch that led into Northshire, several others joined us. It wasn't until I heard the voice I despised that my mood darkened.

"Wil! Hey, Wil, wait up!"

Rhidian galloped up beside me on his gray mare, his smile as bright as the sunlight. I scowled at him openly. "Who invited you?" I asked rather rudely, but it didn't deter his mood. "Are you excited for the Gathering?" he asked me, reining his mare so she and Ore nearly touched shoulders. The two horses reached out their noses in greeting. Atleast _they_ could be friends.

When I didn't answer, Danny piped up. "I surely am," he said, his voice rising a few octaves. Elendil could sense it, and tossed her head excitedly. Rhidian smiled at his friend, raising his pale brows. "Oh right, Dan, this is your first time! You're going to love it," he gushed, and I nearly gagged.

I nudged Ore's sides, and he faithfully picked up the pace a bit. I nosed ahead of the two boys, who now had their heads bent together, whispering excitedly. Ahead of me, I saw the auburn hair of Felicia Simmons, my closest friend. "Felicia!" I called, waving one of my hands above my head. She turned (she was on foot, for her family refused to buy horses) and waved, jumping up and down. "Hey, Wil!" She called, jogging up to me. Immediately Ore slowed to a stop and allowed her to hop on behind me in the saddle. She leaned back, rubbing her hands along his whithers.

"I saw you talking to Rhidian back there," were the first words out of her mouth. Her accent was spicy and high pitched. It reminded me of mead.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, just what I wanted," I said sarcastically, grinning. Felicia knew how I felt about Rhidian, andyet still suggested we become a couple. "He likes you, Wil," she said, her voice pleading, "you two would be such a match. Your mother would be pleased." Felicia raised her eyebrows expectantly; it was no secret how my mother felt about me and Rhidian becoming a couple.

I turned my head to the side and poked a finger to the back of my throat, making gagging noises. Felicia laughed and swatted at me. "You'll change your mind, one day," she said, grinning mischeviously. Felicia thought herself a soothsayer; our days as children had been spent lounging beneath the apple trees, attempting to conjour up our futures. Felicia always teased that she saw me going to war and coming home a hero.

As the first slate of a blue roof came into view, Felicia leapt off of Ore's back, mid-stride. "I'll see you there, Wil! My two feet are faster than your beast!" She teased, weaving in between a crowd of teenagers. I rolled my eyes and patted Ore's neck, which was slightly bathed with sweat. Maybe he _was_ getting too old to ride.

I pulled away to the side, sliding out of the saddle. I heard Elendil's excited whinny and watched as she cantered to me, Danny hanging onto her back for dear life. He hated horses.

I took the reins from his white knuckles and he all but fell out of the saddle, landing squarely on his backside. I stifled a giggle; he was already flustered enough. I tied the horses reins to the post in front of the inn and ran the back of my hand over Danny's bare arm. "You'll be fine," I whispered reassuringly, and then stepped away before he could berate me for being "too mushy".

"Willowpania Wolfslayer?"

The voice was deep and gravelly, as if the speaker had gone days without a drink. I turned, annoyed, to see who was hailing me, and gasped.

"King Varian Wrynn?"


End file.
